Evolution
by Mrs. Witter
Summary: The important thing is: to be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become.
1. Prologue: Experience

**Disclaimer: **I don't own a damn thing. Yes, I'm bitter. It all belongs to Amy Sherman Palladino and the WB. Even the conversations between Rory, Paris, Louise and Madeline are from Season 4. I'm just borrowing them to rework the scene.****

**Rating: **PG-13 for now. May go higher. Probably will, actually. 

**Spoilers**: Everything up until episode three of season 4, _The Hobbit, The Sofa and Digger Stiles. _

**Author's Note: **Yes, I'm insane. Haven't you noticed already? I don't know how long this will be or where I'm going with it. This idea was planted into my mind by evil forces and has now been spawned. I'm but a slave to my muse.

**Evolution**

Prologue: Experience

"So, I did a survey of all the rooms and, by far, ours is the best," Paris Gellar reported to Rory Gilmore over the din of conversation and music in their suite. How had she let this happen? Why did she let this happen? _I just want to make sure that at the end of four years, you've not only read every book in the Yale library, you've also had some fun, _Lorelai's voice rang in her head, reminding her. 

The brunette checked the urge to roll her eyes. "Great."

"Three is way too cluttered. Four has developed a weird smell."

"Uh huh," Rory deadpanned. It wasn't the first time Rory had wished for the ChiltonParis to re-emerge from wherever she had been hiding. At least with her, Rory was on familiar ground and knew how to handle it. YaleParis was starting to annoy her on a completely different level. 

Paris rambled on. "Two was a contender for awhile until I started telling everyone that the girl who lives there was waitlisted. I'm gonna get out there and mingle. This is a great party."

She watched the blonde walk away and offered a silent thanks to whoever was listening and then headed for her bedroom. _A party, Rory thought in disdain as she shut the door behind her. __God, this is so typical. It was true that even a prestigious school like Yale could not escape the adolescent notions of partying 'til you dropped. _

She was about to open a book and start reading but her mother's voice kept ringing in her head. Fun. Have fun. Be fun. Do fun things. _Experience._

Determined, she closed the book and walked outside again, this time bypassing the outer room and heading straight for the hallways. It was time she mingled. Met new people. Did something social for once in her life. 

"Rory!" a familiar voice called out and she turned to see Madeline Lynn and Louise Grant rushing towards her.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, genuinely pleased and pleasantly surprised to see them. The brunette hugged her excitedly, followed by the blonde. "Madeline, Louise! What are you doing here?"

"Party baby," was the reply in true Louise fashion.

"I thought you were supposed to be in Mills," Rory asked Madeline, confused.

"Where?"

"Mills?"

"Where?" she returned again.

Rory gave up, suddenly understanding. "No more Mills?" 

"Mills went bye-bye before I unpacked my shoes," Madeline informed her happily. 

"She's been hanging out at Tulane with me," Louise added.

"I love New Orleans. I am so southern." 

College life agreed with the two of them, Rory thought as they explained how they went online to find out about first week parties. Or the more fun part of it did. It was comforting to know that they hadn't changed too much: party girls, full of life.

"Oh, you're dating a Harvard man?" She tried to keep the surprise out of her voice. 

"He's gonna be a writer," Madeline answered for Louise.

"Well, he hopes," the blonde said with a grin. "Right now, he's totally freaked that _The Simpsons_ are going to be off the air by the time he graduates." 

"Well, it's good to see you guys. Paris is around here somewhere." 

"I hope she's in back of that guy over there because that's where I'm heading," Madeline said, eyes already set on her prey. 

"We'll be back," Louise promised as she set off with Madeline.

"Good luck," Rory called after them and then turned, wondering what to do next. She surveyed the people in the hallway, all deep in their own conversations and wondered why it was so difficult for her to just talk to a complete stranger. 

Paris was right, in a way.

She wasn't in Stars Hollow anymore, people didn't know her here, didn't expect anything from her. It should be easy. It was _supposed to be easy._

What the hell was wrong with her? Her grandparents lived the high society life. They threw dinner parties, mingled and schmoozed with the best of them. Both Lorelai and Christopher were great with making conversation, with social scenes. Shouldn't this be in her blood? 

Resignedly she ventured back into her room, flopped onto her bed and opened her copy of _On The Road. _This time she only felt a slight pang at the sight of Jess's handwriting in the margins. A huge part of her wanted to replace all of the books she had ever lent him (or that he had stolen) with new ones. Another part of her still needed to hang on. It may have been masochistic and she knew that she didn't need the added distraction or reminders of Jess plaguing her every time she read something but she couldn't let go entirely and she hated that she didn't know why. 

_I think I may have loved you_. Huh, maybe that was the answer.

The sound of the door opening behind her snapped her attention back to the present and she turned just in time to see a tall, blonde boy close the door quickly, his back to her. There was something jarring about his presence but Rory was too confused to figure out exactly why.

"Sorry about this," he said over his shoulder in a strangely familiar voice. "I'll be out of here in a few minutes."

"I, uh," she stammered slightly. "Okay."

"I'm just trying to escape-" he trailed off as he turned around and Rory's own eyes widened in shock. Tristan DuGrey stared back at her, just as astonished, his mouth slightly agape. He recovered first and the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. "Rory Gilmore, we meet again." 


	2. Chapter One: Make New Friends, But Keep ...

The important thing is this: to be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become****

**Disclaimer: **I don't own a damn thing. Yes, I'm bitter. It all belongs to Amy Sherman Palladino and the WB. The conversation at the end, between Rory and Marty is not mine.****

**Rating: **PG-13 for now. May go higher. Probably will, actually. 

**Spoilers**: Everything up until episode three of season 4, _The Hobbit, The Sofa and Digger Stiles. _

**Dedication: **To Priya on her 15th birthday! This is belated, I know. But you're the coolest fifteen-year-old I know! 

****

Chapter One: Make New Friends, But Keep The Old

To say that she was surprised to see Tristan in her dorm room was the mother of all understatements. Flashes of their encounters at Chilton ran through her muddled brain: 'Mary', the fight with Dean at the Winter Formal, PJ Harvey, Romeo and Juliet…the one comforting kiss near a grand piano.

"Tristan," she almost breathed out finally as he watched her, the amusement he was trying to keep in check seeping through in the deepening of his dimples and the crinkle around his eyes. "Wow. You're here. At Yale. In my room." 

He crossed his arms over his chest and chuckled softly. "Yes, I am. This is the part where I say; it's a small world, isn't it?"

"And getting smaller," she replied with a smile, tugging at the hem of her shirt.

"I'm actually pretty surprised to see you here, too." He casually walked over to her desk, pulled out her chair a straddled it. She shifted on the bed, still uncomfortable with him being in her room. "If I remember correctly, you were going to go to Harvard."

She shrugged, twisting her sleeve with her finger. "Things changed. Uh, where do you go to school?" 

He looked at her oddly for a second before smirking. "Yale." 

"No you don't."

"Oh yeah, you're right," he said mockingly. "I don't. I forgot, idiot that I am." 

She gave him a sheepish smile, her mind still reeling from the fact that Tristan DuGrey was in college with her. "I…sorry. I just am shocked. Not shocked that you got into Yale just shocked that you're _in Yale. Not that you wouldn't be in Yale. It's perfectly reasonable. I didn't see you at orientation and I haven't seen you on campus yet and I just…sorry."_

He gave her another funny look, his mouth twitching slightly as he tried to contain his amusement. "I understand. It's like a Chilton invasion. I saw Madeline and Louise out there."

"I take it you're escaping them?"

"Why would I want to escape two beautiful girls?" he asked with a grin that was so familiar, Rory felt they were actually back in Chilton again. When she rolled her eyes he laughed and shook his head. "There are these girls, twins that my grandmother knows from one of her associations. DAR or something like it. Anyway, they're really…uh, overzealous." 

Amused, she quirked an eyebrow. "How so?"

"They're giving me a nickname. I believe they've settled on Trissy." He barely repressed a shudder and Rory burst out laughing. "Hey! It's not funny."

"Oh no, from where I'm sitting it's hilarious," she teased in between gasp of mirth, holding her stomach. "It suits you perfectly." An unwilling grin tugged at his lips and he shook his head in disbelief. They stared at each other as their laughed died down and Rory felt uncomfortable again as his blue eyes stayed set on her intently. She felt heat rising to her cheeks as she stared back. "What?" 

He shook his head again, slightly. He crossed his arms over the back of her chair and rested his chin on top of it, scrutinizing her face again, as if searching for something. "I just…after the way we left things off that time, I never thought I'd see you again." 

She caught on to how his voice softened as he said the last part and looked away, smiling slightly. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I was sure I wasn't going to see you again."

His brows furrowed even though he was chuckling. "I'm not exactly sure how I _am_ supposed to take that. But I guess we were both wrong. So tell me, Gilmore, what are you doing in here when there's a party going out there?" 

She lifted her book up and smiled sheepishly. "Catching up on my reading, of course." 

"Why am I not surprised?" 

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," he replied smoothly. "I mean, of course you'd rather be sitting on your bed reading rather than you know…try and make friends." 

It was funny how he hadn't lost the ability to go from being tolerable to annoying in a matter of seconds. 

She frowned as her eyes narrowed in his direction and she ignored the little voice in her head that taunted her about his accuracy of his assessment. "I have friends."

"Someone other than your roommates?" he asked challengingly and she hated the smugness in his tone. "Although, I'm pretty sure you're hardly friends with them. Let me see, the person you share this room with annoys the hell out of you most of the time. She's probably, in your opinion, neurotic and overbearing and you want to pull her hair out."

Rory felt an unwilling grin tug at her lips at his unknowingly truthful description of Paris Gellar. Of course, he had no idea the other Chiltonite went to Yale so she smiled grudgingly. "Okay, fine. You're right about that. So what, it doesn't prove anything."

"Alright," he conceded, standing up and walking over to the bed. "Let's see, the other two girls are a little too weird for your tastes. I met the athlete - Janet, was it? Well, she seems pretty intense. So you probably feel like you could never have anything in common with her and hence, you'll avoid her at all costs." 

"That is not true," she protested uselessly but when he merely raised an eyebrow, she sighed. "Alright fine, yes, that was the plan. How can I possibly have something in common with someone who wakes up at five o'clock to run?" 

"I ran everyday at five for the past two years," he replied with a shrug. 

She smiled at him with mock sweetness. "Well then, you just proved my point." 

"Funny girl," he stated with a grin as he pocketed his hands. "You should be nicer to me, Gilmore. I'm the only friend you may have here at Yale." 

"Then I should probably kill myself right now," she deadpanned.

"Ah that quick wit," he drawled, sitting down at the foot of her bed. "How did I ever do without it?" 

Before she could say anything else, the distinct sound of Paris shouting loudly at a group of unsuspecting people, permeated through the door and cut off her response. "Okay, everybody out, now! This room is closed. Take your gross beer and your inane conversations somewhere else. Move!"

Tristan's eyes widened in surprise as he stared at the door and then back at her, his expression almost comical. "Please, tell me that's not who I think it is." 

Rory's grin belied the regret in her voice. "Sorry, I can't do that."

He shook his head in disbelief. "Paris Gellar at Yale?"

"The one and only." Tristan walked to the door, wrenching it open and she followed, wanting to see the spectacle for herself. Paris had just managed to shoo away the last of the party and closed the door with an annoyed huff. Tristan was watching her as if she weren't real and Rory cleared her throat. "What happened?"

"I don't even know why I tri-" Paris started but cut herself off when she turned and saw Tristan standing there. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she took him in and Rory was scared that she might actually lash out. "You!"

To his credit, he barely flinched and managed another charming smile. "Gellar! What a surprise!"

"What the hell are you doing here?" she raged, stalking up to him.

"I go to school here," he answered innocently. 

Paris looked at him as if she would love nothing more than to slap the stupid smile off his face. When she looked at Rory for some kind of reassurance, the brunette nodded meekly. 

"Stay away from me," she told him icily before pushing past him and slamming the door of their room shut behind her. 

Tristan ran his tongue over the front of his teeth and looked mildly amused. "So she's still mad at me, huh?"

She gave him a pitying look and crossed her arms over her chest. "She's got the memory of an elephant." 

He let out a sigh and gave her a sidelong glance. "It should be interesting to say the least."

"What should?"

"Me, you and Paris Gellar in Yale together," he replied with a wry smile. "Just like Chilton."

"God, I hope it's nothing like Chilton," she quipped with a horrified look on her face. 

He laughed as he walked towards the door. Once he was there, he turned to her inclining his head to the side as he studied her once more, those blue eyes scrutinizing her face so intently she shifted in her place. "Very interesting, indeed. I'll see you around, Gilmore." 

She raised her hand in a half-wave as he closed the door behind him.

~*~ 

Rory could not believe what she was seeing. She knew that college was supposed to bring open up a new world to her and make her experience new things but she would never have imagined waking up in the middle of the night because of a sound she heard in the hallway, only to find a naked guy sprawled there.

Tentatively, she woke him up with the tie of her robe not knowing what else to do.

He looked up groggily, unsure of his surroundings. "Hi."

"Hi," she greeted back. Should she just tell him about his state of undress? 

"I'm on the floor," he stated matter-of-factly.

"You were sleeping," she told him needlessly, wrapping her arms around her torso.

"I have no clothes on." Oh good he knew.  

"No, you don't," she confirmed, staring at him apologetically. 

He seemed to be putting it altogether. "I'm on the floor, I have no clothes on, and you're a girl, so I must be…" 

"On the wrong floor."

"Oh, boy." He finally sounded as embarrassed as she felt.

"Where's your room?"

"I think up. Are we on the first floor?" When she said yes, he nodded. "Then up. Any idea how long I've been here?"

"No."

"So you have no idea how many people have walked by while I've…" he trailed off, flushing again. 

Rory gave him the same kind of pitying look she had given Tristan earlier. "Sorry." 

"Great. Now for the rest of my time at Yale, I'm gonna be 'the naked guy'." Rory thought of the nickname Tristan had labeled her with on the first day of Chilton and immediately felt sorry for him. Mary was infinitely better than Naked Guy. He continued to rant, "And you know what's really great? Tomorrow, when the "naked guy" nickname starts spreading around campus like wildfire, I'm gonna be in my third hour of throwing up." 

"Well, it's been really quiet out here for a while now, so there's a chance that no one but me has actually seen you yet," she stated optimistically. 

Hope flared in his eyes. "Oh yeah?" 

"I promise I won't say anything," she affirmed and then started to ramble. "And if there's a chance that you could refrain from, you know, being naked again in the wrong hallway at the next party, then there's a chance you might get a completely different nickname, like 'the never-naked guy'."

"You're a very kind person," he complimented as he started to get up.

Rory's eyes widened and she turned away from him before she got an eyeful. "Wait. Hold on. Um, you can borrow this."

She took off her robe and handed it to him. He thanked her and she looked away while h put it on. One he was done, she turned to look at him and bit her lower lip to keep from laughing at the sight of him in her blue robe. "Hey, weren't you in my Japanese Fiction class today?" 

"Yeah, that's right." 

"I thought so. Hi, I'm, uh…Marty," he introduced himself. 

"Um…Rory."

"I won't remember that tomorrow." 

"That's perfectly understandable."

"So I should probably try and find my room. And my pants, 'cause that's where I kept my keys," he informed her and she wondered how this encounter could possibly get any weirder, 

"So pants first." 

"Right, pants first." 

"Night," she said and then he turned to leave as he mumbled something about being stupider than his brother. 

_The night is officially going to go under Weirdest Nights of My Life_, she thought to herself as she walked back to her room. _First Tristan DuGrey's at Yale and now some random naked guy has my favorite robe._

As she crawled back into her bed and thought of what Tristan said about the year being interesting. Closing her eyes, she sighed and snuggled against her pillow. If tonight was a preview of her life at Yale, then she agreed with him: life would definitely not be boring. 


	3. Chapter Two: Memory

**Disclaimer: **I don't own a damn thing. Yes, I'm bitter. It all belongs to Amy Sherman Palladino and the WB. The conversations between Rory & Dean and Rory & Marty are from _Chicken Or Beef _and _The Fundamental Things Apply _respectively_. _

**Rating: **PG-13 for now. Will go higher eventually.

**Spoilers**: Everything up until episode three of season 4, _The Hobbit, The Sofa and Digger Stiles._****

Chapter Two: Memory 

"God, I feel like there's an entire marching band playing in my skull," Marty complained to his suitemates the next morning as he stumbled and fell onto the sofa in the middle of their common room. "Actually I think there are two different marching bands."

"Welcome to wonderful world of hangovers my friend," James O'Neil said with a sympathetic smile and patted the other boy on the shoulder. "What did you expect would happen when you came to Yale?"

"Oh I don't know," Marty responded pathetically. "I thought I'd learn something."

"Education is over-rated," Tristan DuGrey stated as he came out of the room he shared with Marty. The other boy was holding a powder blue robe in his hands that seemed to spark something in Marty's drunken mind. Tristan held up the robe and smirked. "But do tell where you got the fetching robe from, Anderson. It's really your color."

"I got it from a girl," he replied innocently and then furrowed his brow. "At least I think it was a girl."

"Ah the joy of sex with a stranger." The blond looked impressed. "I didn't know you had it in you, Martin. So do you even remember the lucky girl's name?"

"We didn't have sex."

"Why am I not surprised?" James muttered, disappointed. 

"She found me naked in the hallway," Marty clarified, ignoring the comment. "And she gave me the robe to cover myself. She was sweet."

"That's just adorable," Tristan mocked as he threw the robe in his roommate's direction. "How are you going to get it back to her if you don't remember her name, nimwad?" 

"It'll come to me," he answered assuredly and closed his eyes. "As soon as the drumming in my head stops."

"Good luck," James stated and then looked at his watch. "Alright gentlemen, I need to grab a bite to eat and head off to class. You coming, DuGrey?" 

"Yeah alright," the other boy agreed. "I'm hoping to run into an old friend and I'm willing to bet anything she'll be one of the first ones in the dining hall, eager to start the day."

"Old girlfriend?" James asked, knowing that Tristan DuGrey was like a sailor, with a girl at every port. "And more importantly, is she hot?"

Tristan rolled his eyes and stuffed his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. "She's a girl and she's a friend. Or she used to be, anyway. And of course she's hot."

"Wait!" Marty said suddenly as he sat up straight on the couch. "I think I remember. She had brown hair."

"That really narrows it down, buddy."

"And her name was kind of unusual. Tally? Terri? No, that's not it," he said, frowning. "Lexi. Yeah, I think it was Lexi." 

James shot off the couch, exasperated. "Well, good luck finding your dream girl, Anderson. Let's go, DuGrey. If we're late, those dickheads from B3 will hog all the rolls." 

As the two boys left the room, they heard their roommate declare, "No, it wasn't Lexi. It was Ronnie! How could I forget Ronnie?"

~*~ 

Rory had spotted him the second she round the corner and there was no way she could avoid him anymore. She hugged herself as she approached him, wishing she had just stayed at Yale over the weekend. Squabbling roommates and dirty clothes were easier to deal with than seeing Dean after so long, on the day before his wedding no less. 

"Hi," she greeted him softly, hoping she didn't sound too uncomfortable. 

"Hi." He glanced at Kim's Antiques. "Uh, were you...?"

"Oh, I was at, uh, Lane's," she replied, nodding.

"Right, Lane's." He stared at her and all she could do was stare back. "Um."

"Um," she muttered back stupidly. When had it been so hard to make conversation with Dean? It shouldn't be awkward or weird. They had both moved on, hadn't they?

"So, you're home this weekend."

"Yeah, I, uh, I ran out of clean clothes and quarters, so...how are things?" she asked the first thing that came to mind. He was in the middle of his wedding preparations, how did she think he would be? They made small talk about Yale and Connecticut and then she subtly mentioned the topic they were both trying to avoid. "So, I see you've taken over the town."

"Oh, yeah." He grinned sheepishly and gestured in the general direction of the town square. "Uh, well, Lindsay thought...she likes the gazebo, and..." 

"And it's her wedding," she finished for him, needlessly. 

After some weird conversation between then about whose wedding it was and a Victoria's Secret commercial, Dean said, "I didn't know you'd be home this weekend." 

"It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing." 

"Because if I had known, I would have, you know, invited you." Would he have? If he had, did he think she'd come or would it have been too awkward?

"Oh." Awkward. She decided it would have been too awkward. "Oh, well, it's..." 

"I mean, I didn't want you to think I was just not inviting you," he cut her of, sounding sincere. She assured him she didn't think that but it looked like he didn't believe her. "I just figured you'd be at school." 

"'Cause you're logical." 

Some more nonsensical babbling followed this before Dean made a crazy suggestion. "But, hey, since you are here, come." 

"Come?" she asked dumbly. 

"To my wedding. Come to my wedding," he clarified.

"Oh, Dean..." Dammit, she was in trouble. 

"You and Lorelai, I want you to." Oh great, now Lorelai was being dragged in too. _Why Dean? Why couldn't you just leave this alone? she thought to herself helplessly._

She bit her bottom lip. "Well..."

Before she could say anything else, he was talking about chicken and beef and then assuring her she didn't look like beef. She tried to get a word in but he rambled on, as if he were determined to make the situation more awkward than it needed to be. "Okay, so, noon at the church. I'll be the one in the tux. And don't worry, we didn't write our own vows and no one's singing opera. I know you think that's lame." 

"Oh, no, well, it's a wedding. It's supposed to be...operatic," she said. 

"Okay, so, I better get over there. Lindsay is expecting me. Uh, so, I'll just see you two tomorrow."

"But..." she called after him but he was already on his way to his bride-to-be. She sighed, folded her arms over her chest and wondered why she hadn't stayed at Yale. _Paris, Janet and Tana would have been so much easier to deal with than this. Hell, Tristan DuGrey would have been so much easier to deal with than this. _She back-peddled her thoughts and felt significantly worse. Was Tristan really a better option than attending her ex-boyfriend's wedding?  _Wow, that was saying a lot. _

~*~

"Gellar!" Tristan called out as he jogged up to her on the path, in order to keep up with the blonde's swift strides. "Hey Paris, wait up! Good Lord woman, you're a hard person to track down."

She barely glanced up at him, merely adjusted her shoulder bag and kept walking ahead. "What do you want, DuGrey?"

"To talk," he answered quickly as she rounded a corner and nearly ran over a boy with books stacked in his arms. Tristan reached out to steady the teetering freshman and then resumed speed walking next to his feverish friend. "Paris, can you please slow down for a second and pretend to be interested." 

"Sorry, takes too much energy." Sighing, he impulsively grabbed her upper arm and forcefully pulled her to face him, leaving her no choice but to stop. She looked up at him irritably and snapped, "I don't have time for this. Talk fast." 

"If looks could kill," Tristan stated amused, as she crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot for emphasis. "I've been trying to get a hold of you this entire weekend. I even called the mansion - you're mother says you're to call her, by the way – and I'm beginning to feel like you're avoiding me, Paris."

"You catch on quick. Always knew you were as sharp as a tack."

He rolled his eyes. "Come on, Paris, can you honestly tell me that you're going to forget our friendship, our childhood?"

Paris lifted a shoulder and narrowed her wide eyes. "Why not? You've been doing it since puberty."

"Paris," he said softly, almost pleadingly. "Don't do this. You can't be mad at me for something that happened almost three years ago. We've both grown up and changed. Moved on. I want to be friends again."

"So what?" she asked, her anger finally seeping through. Her voice rose progressively as she spoke. "Who the _hell are you to decide when you want us to be __friends again? And then drop me the minute someone more interesting comes along? Someone you can grope in a broom closet or someone who'll avoid you like the plague only making the chase all that more thrilling for you. Forget it."_

He knew she was upset with him but the anger he saw in her eyes, the sheer force of it that radiated off of her took him by complete surprise. "I didn't mean…I would never…"

"Yes you would, Tristan," she cut him off and threw her hands in the air for dramatic effect. "You know you would. If you're on some kind of self-actualization mission because some stupid military school taught you that you could be whatever you want to be well then leave me the _hell out of it! You've really got some nerve."_

"That's not what I am trying to do," he protested, not caring that people were stopping to stare. The fact that she obviously thought very little of him was enough to make him forget where he was and what he was doing. "Paris, listen to me."

"No," she retorted and took a step closer. "You're right. I have grown-up and I have changed. I'm not some pathetic loser who pines for you and I refuse to let you lead me on for whatever sick, twisted games you choose to play. Leave me alone, Tristan. Just stay far away."

Before he could say anything else, she turned on her heel and stormed away, leaving him completely speechless for what was probably the first time in his entire life.

~*~ 

Rory rushed into the dining hall in her robe and slippers, frantic for some breakfast. The last time she had gone to her morning classes without any food, her stomach hadn't stopped making weird noises. "Excuse me, excuse me. Can I…?" she motioned for the waffles that were about to be thrown away. The cafeteria worker handed it over, looking a little displeased. "Yes, thank you." 

As she turned around, the Naked Guy from the night of the party was standing in front of her. "Rory." 

"Marty."

He looked pleased. "You remembered." 

She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. "Well, I wasn't the one passed out in the hallway, so I had a better shot." 

"True, very true. So, I see you're a little late for breakfast." 

"Yeah. My alarm was turned off," she explained and left out the part about her neurotic roommate who she was going to murder. She didn't need any witnesses. 

"Well, hey, you want some eggs or something? I always take enough for ten. I blame my brother. He always took the biggest piece of chicken," he rambled and she wondered if she sounded like that when she went on one of her spiels.  

"And left you none?"

"No, there was plenty more. I just really wanted that big piece." 

"Oh. Well -" she trailed off wondering when she was going to be able to enjoy her food.

"Hey, I want you to meet The Breakfast Crew." 

"Oh, well, I'm kind of -" she started to say as her stomach protested wildly to his suggestion.

"Well, we all just started eating breakfast together every morning, so someone came up with the name The Breakfast Crew," he continued, ignoring her. They approached a table nearby and Rory resigned herself to meeting his friends. "I mean, it's not like an official club or anything. There are no hats. At least not until we can all agree on a color. Uh, excuse me, guys. I want you all to meet Rory." 

One guy looked up uninterested. "Who?" 

"The robe," Marty clarified and Rory felt her cheeks flush. 

"Oh, the robe." Uninterested Guy looked intrigued. "Nice to meet you." 

She stayed a little bit longer, while they talked (at disturbing length) about her robe and then, when one guy complimented her bunny slippers she knew she had to bolt. "Thank you. Uh, well, it was nice meeting you all. I actually have to go, so..." 

Marty followed her as she left. "I embarrassed you." 

"It's fine," she said, waving it off. 

"I'm sorry. I was just so relieved that I could finally approach you." 

"Why couldn't you approach me?"

"Well, that night was really humiliating, so every time I saw you after that, I just hid. But then when I saw you show up this morning like that, I thought, here's my chance to even the playing field."

"Marty, this is not as embarrassing as being totally naked." 

"Oh I must agree," a familiar voice drawled from behind her. "Seeing Anderson naked is a real embarrassment."

"Shut up, Tristan!" Rory and Marty stated simultaneously and then looked at each other and said, "You know him?"

Tristan smirked. "I am known by all. So Martin, Ro_ry is your dream girl, is she? He couldn't remember your name. We were this close to calling you Terri."_

She shuddered at the name and raised her eyebrows in Marty's direction. "I was hung over. But I remembered it eventually. My roommate is just being as ass."

Rory smiled at Tristan sweetly. "It's part of his charm." 

Tristan ignored her comment and stared at her for a minute. "You cut your hair."

Unconsciously, her free hand flew up to her shortened locks. A lot of people had commented on her hair, but the way he said it made her want to run to the nearest mirror. "Yeah."

His expression was unreadable but when their eyes met, he smiled a little. "It looks nice."

She smiled, feeling her cheeks redden again. "Thanks."

Marty looked between the two and cleared his throat. "I'm going to get going. See you around, Rory."

"Yeah. Bye Marty," she waved and then turned to Tristan who was now staring at her feet, smirking. She rolled her eyes and smacked him lightly on the arm with her free hand. "So I like bunnies. Get over it."

He pocketed his hands and simply laughed. "I think they're cute. Very much your style." 

She couldn't figure out if she was supposed to be insulted or not so she simply rolled her eyes and pushed past him. "I'll see you around, Tristan."

"Count on it," he called after her.


	4. Chapter Three: The Dating Game

**Disclaimer: **I don't own a damn thing. Yes, I'm bitter. It all belongs to Amy Sherman Palladino and the WB. The conversations between Rory & Lorelai and Rory & Trevor are from _The Fundamental Things Apply. _

**Rating: **PG-13 for now. Will go higher eventually.

**Spoilers**: Everything up until episode three of season 4, _The Hobbit, The Sofa and Digger Stiles._

**Author's Note: **It seems like I am on a roll with this one so I am going with my muse. Even if I am not feeling the CMM love lately (Damn you, Lucas Scott!). 

**Dedication: **To Susie, Sur, Gracie, Priya, Lessa, Janine, Nat and Roxy. Just 'cause they say nice things to me about this fic.

Chapter Three: The Dating Game

Trying not to eavesdrop on Paris's loud and rather angry conversation with Jamie over the phone was a very hard feat. Rory watched as her roommate rolled her eyes and screwed up her face as her boyfriend talked to her and when Paris caught her gaze, she stuck her finger down her throat to emphasize her distaste. Rory knew that Paris and Jamie were going through their whole this-long-distance-relationship-is-not-working-you're-not-there-for-me-when-I-need-you hoop-la but she wasn't sure how bad it really was until just now. Wanting to throw up when your boyfriend is talking to you was not a sign of relationship stability. 

While Rory shuffled around with her notes, Paris finished her conversation/argument with Jamie and hung up the phone in a huff. She stared at the phone and then at Rory before pronouncing, "I need to scream. Very loud."

"There's a pillow on your bed," Rory suggested. "Scream away."

Instead of screaming, Paris fell back on her bed and sighed. "First Tristan and now Jamie."

"Tristan?" Rory asked surprised. He didn't seem all that shaken up when she talked to him in the morning. "Something happened with Tristan?"

Paris buried her face in the pillow. "Yesterday. Jerk wanted to be friends." 

Rory fake gasped. "The fiend! How dare he?"

"You don't get it," Paris retorted. "You don't understand the way his warped mind works. I don't even know why I am telling you."

"Because it's obviously bothering you."

"It's not bothering me."

Rory shrugged. "If you say so."

"It's _not_, okay?" Paris repeated. "I am so over it. I was over it the minute he left for boot camp. Can we please not talk about him?"

Rory wanted to tell her that Paris that she was the one who brought it up but decided against it. She sat down on her bed and folded her arms over her chest. "Alright so let's talk about Jamie. What's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about that, either." Paris sat up on her bed and hugged a pillow. "Tell me something. About anything."

 "I got asked out today." Rory blurted the first thing that came to her mind. She hadn't really given Trevor asking her out much thought even though it had thrown her off at first. But apparently, it was still floating around in her subconscious.  
 

"Oh," Paris said and then paused, "Is this your first date after.?"

"I didn't say yes. And what do you mean 'after.'?"

"After Jess ran off," she answered tactlessly.

"Oh." Rory shifted on her bed. She hadn't thought of it that way. Leave it to Paris to remind her of what she lost. "Yeah, it is." 

"Ah," Paris said knowingly. 

"Ah?" Rory returned, furrowing her brows. "What do you mean 'ah'?"

"Never mind, Gilmore. Your life truly is very boring." Rory scowled and Paris stood up and stretched. "I'm going to go and focus my attention on something more productive."

As Paris left the room, Rory called after her, "Leave Janet alone!"

~*~ 

"Oh, yesterday Janet woke up to find that Paris had chaired her in her room." Rory told her mom that same night when she went home to do laundry. "And then, later, when Janet had climbed out the window, she retaliated by gluing shut the opening of Paris's glue gun." 

"Wow, she went for the crafts." 

"This war is getting totally out of hand," Rory complained although she left out the part where she suspected Paris's behavior this was due more to the Jamie issue rather than her own neuroses. "This morning Paris turned off my alarm because Janet woke her up. I almost missed breakfast. I ran down to the dining hall in my pajamas and bunny slippers, and of course I ran into Marty."

Lorelai grinned. "Naked guy." 

"It was totally humiliating." _Not to mention that Tristan showed up to complete the public disgrace_, she added to herself silently. She had yet to tell her mother that he was attending Yale, the opportunity never came up. 

"Humiliating 'cause naked guy's hot?" she prompted, the grin never vanishing.  

Rory pouted. "It was humiliating because I had terrycloth rabbits on my feet."

"So naked guy's not hot?" Lorelai asked sounding a little disappointed. 

"Naked guy is Marty, and it's not like that. He's sweet." 

"Ah. Sweet means bad butt." Lorelai claimed. They argued back and forth about Marty's 'hotness' before her mother moved on. "No? How about a professor - someone older, wiser, with brown cords and whiskey breath?" 

"Oh, well, yeah. There's one of those."

"Come on, Rory." 

"Well, this guy asked me to go try this restaurant this weekend, but it was a totally casual thing." She tried to play it off because she knew Lorelai's tendencies to over exaggerate everything.  

"So what'd you tell him?" 

"That I was busy." 

"You don't like him?"

"No, I like him fine. I mean, he's smart, and he takes my side in the debates, and he's decent to look at," she responded and then continued to illustrate her somewhat well thought out hang-ups with Trevor while Lorelai mocked her in that subtle way of hers. 

"And he's preppy, and I don't really like preppy. Plus, he's gonna go study in Barcelona next year."

"So?" 

"So it's a waste of time. It can't go anywhere," she defended.

"It could go to dinner, maybe a movie." Lorelai suggested.

"Mom..."

"No, look, Rory, I know you've never really dated." 

"What are you talking about?" Rory asked appalled.  "I've dated." 

"Who did you date?" 

"Dean. 

"You and Dean did not date. You had a relationship." 

"Well, Jess." 

"Was relationship number two." Because her mother was right, Rory did what she knew always worked in a debate - she turned it around on Lorelai. After arguing about Lorelai's own inability to date, her mother gave up and continued, "Okay, fine, I may not be the world's best dater, but I do it and you should give it a shot. I mean, you're in college now. What else is there to do in college but date? 

What to do when cornered by logic? Bail. "I'm gonna go wash my clothes now." 

"Wait," Lorelai called after her. "Was that it? Is this conversation over? Sorry, did I win?" 

~*~ 

"Saturday night?" Trevor asked a little apprehensively, the next day. 

"Saturday night." Rory confirmed, wondering if he saw right through her or she was actually managing the whole asking-a-guy-out-without-making-it-seem-like-you-asked-him-out. 

"Are you saying you want to go to dinner on Saturday night?" 

"Wow." She played dumb and then nodded. "Um, okay. Yeah. Well, I will be hungry." 

"Well, that fact has been pretty well established," he noted with a tiny grin and she felt her inner cool falter for a second. 

"Okay. Sure. Yeah, let's go to dinner Saturday night," she reconfirmed. 

"So, you're at." 

"Durfee, suite 5." He told her he would pick her up at 7:30 and then she added (just to make sure they were clear on who asked whom out), "Wow. I gotta hand it to you there, Trevor. You sure are persistent." 

As Trevor left, the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her claimed her attention and she turned around to face a smirking Tristan. "Rory Gilmore, in action. I never thought I'd see the day." 

She rolled her eyes and adjusted her book bag. "So you've added stalking to your endless list of annoying habits? It's illegal in all fifty states, if you didn't know." 

"Don't flatter yourself, Gilmore," he responded as he fell into step with her. "I just happened to be coming out of class when I _overheard_ you asking that guy out. I must say, he's a change from the leather-wearing-bracelet-making-courtyard-confession kind of guy you usually go for. Speaking of whom, dumped you again, did he?" 

With Dean's surreal wedding to Lindsay still fresh in her memory, Rory chose to ignore Tristan's comment and furrowed her brow. "Did it sound like _I_ was asking _him_ out?"

"Oh yeah," he returned easily. "You have desperate written all over you." 

"Kind of like the flashing neon 'Jackass' sign stamped to your forehead?" she retaliated as they stepped out of the building. "And you should talk about desperate. Or was that whole pretending I was going with you to the PJ Harvey concert and then stealing my books when I rejected you all in my head?" 

Instead of getting angry, he simply chuckled. "Ouch. Right for the jugular. Mary, you still don't realize the extent of the damage you caused my entire emotional system that day, do you?" 

"Oh I'm sure you recovered just fine," she deadpanned as they walked towards Durfee. "So, um, listen.did you and Paris get into a fight?" 

He visibly tensed and nodded, expelling his breath. "Well, it was more like she was yelling at me while I stood like an idiot and wondered what the hell was happening."

"Don't take it personally," she told him and without thinking, she divulged information she was pretty sure Paris didn't want him to know. "Paris is a very difficult place right now. Things aren't going well for her and she's having problems with her boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" he asked sounding surprised. "So the C-SPAN thing was true."

Rory _knew_ for a fact that Paris would not like that he had heard about it. "Yeah."

"Well, that explains a lot," he stated pocketing one hand in his jeans and running a hand through his hair with the other. "Why she's at Yale, why she's so.off. Harvard was her dream for so long. Paris has never been able to deal with rejection very well."

"Tell me about it."

"Wow, I feel like such a jerk." He sighed, frustrated. Having never heard him acknowledge any transgression on his part Rory was taken back. Self-deprecation didn't suit him, very well. "And don't say anything."

"What?" she asked puzzled.

"I know you were going to come up with some clever quip for that jerk comment," he stated a little too harsh. They stopped under a tree and she turned to face him.

"No I wasn't," she told him, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I was _going_ to say that you shouldn't feel like a jerk, you haven't been around so it's not like she should expect anything from you."

"Yeah," he said, looking over her shoulder. "I haven't been around for a long time. I screwed up."

"Well, that's very mature of you." Rory smirked a little and gave him a sidelong glance as they resumed walking. "I see military school has set you on the path of self-actualization."  

"Oh yeah," he snorted and shook his head. "Military school did me a world of good." 

Realizing she had a more subdued Tristan walking next to her, instead of the one who teased her constantly, she decided to do a little prodding. "Was it really that bad?"

He winced, almost imperceptibly and shrugged. "I don't know if 'bad' is the exact word to describe it. It was a drastic change from Chilton, that's for sure. Maybe it did me some good. Maybe it didn't do anything for me at all." 

"Oh feel free to be more vague." 

He grinned and made a tsk-ing sound.  "Vaguer. Tut-tut, Gilmore. You're slipping."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. You're avoiding the issue." 

"What issue?" he asked playfully and then noticed the dining hall a couple of feet ahead. "Hey, I'm starving. Do you want to grab some lunch?"

"You're incorrigible, anyone ever tell you that?" 

"Plenty of times." 

"Well, it's true," she shot back when he smirked (oh how she hated that smirk) and glanced at the dining hall. Lunch with Tristan DuGrey? There was no way she'd be able to withstand that and escape unscathed. And she did have a lot of reading to do. "Maybe some other time. I have work." 

"Work, of course." He nodded slowly, almost resignedly, and she could tell by his expression that he knew she was really just trying to get out of it tactfully. "See you later, Rory." 

He walked away and she wondered why she didn't just follow him. _Idiot_, she sighed to herself and then trudged to Durfee, by herself. 


	5. Chapter Four: The Night From Hell

**Disclaimer: **I don't own a damn thing. Yes, I'm bitter. It all belongs to Amy Sherman Palladino and the WB. The conversation between Lorelai and Rory is from the episode _The Fundamental Things Apply_.****

**Rating: **PG-13 for now. May go higher. Probably will, actually.

**Spoilers**: Everything up until episode three of season 4, _The Hobbit, The Sofa and Digger Stiles. _

**Author's Note: **To Gracie for wanting me to update. And to Chad Michael Murray (Sophia is a lucky girl!) for his performance in _Freaky Friday_ because it inspired this chapter. Despite the horrendous singing.

Chapter Four: The Night From Hell

"Oh, so the guy's a dud?" Lorelai asked the night of Rory's date with Trevor.

"Trevor's fine," Rory complained. "I'm moronic. I bring the conversation to a crashing halt every time I speak." Lorelai sighed and asked where he was and Rory flinched as she answered, "In the bathroom, probably pondering my brilliant anecdote about urine mints."

"About what?"

"You know, when people go to the bathroom and they don't wash their hands and they come out and they take a mint," she explained, hoping that someone would back her up.

"Oh my God, I've been eating those mints for years," her mother exclaimed and then turned to Luke and said, "Hey did you know about urine mints?"

"And I've already forgotten everything that he said to me - the name of his brother and sister and best friend." _Not to mention I forgot that **I** had a sister_, Rory thought to herself sullenly. "And we're sitting on the same side of the table. We keep bumping menus, and my neck already hurts from trying to turn and look at him when he talks. Can I tell him to sit on the other side?"

Lorelai sighed and went into 'sympathetic mom' mode. "Honey, you just...you have to relax, 'cause it's just a date, and sometimes dates don't go well. I mean, I'm sorry I can't be of more help, but if he comes back and you're on the phone, it might make things more awkward."

"Bite the bullet, huh?"

"Yeah. Sorry, but yeah."

Rory sighed and turned off the phone, hoping that one day she'd be able to look back at this night and laugh. Because right now? She wanted the Earth to swallow her whole.

- & -

There were a few lessons that life had taught Tristan that came a little too soon for his liking. The fact that frat parties were just an excuse for the youth of America to kill brain cells at an alarming rate and therefore, not as much fun as he would have thought, was one of them. The old Tristan DuGrey, the one who was known for throwing wild parties in his parent's mansion in Hartford would be disappointed right about now. After all, what was better than an endless supply of alcohol, music blaring so loud that you couldn't hear your own thoughts and drunken college girls dancing on top of tables?

Somewhere along the way, that had just lost its appeal. And he was still a fucking freshman. _What would the Chilton crowd say if they could see you now_? A voice jeered in his head_. Oh how the mighty have fallen._

Staring forlornly into his plastic cup, he tried to pinpoint the exact moment this need to not self-destruct settled into his brain. He had been effectively clobbering his conscience for seventeen years but ever since the first night he had landed in Pennington Military Academy in Wellford, North Carolina, it seemed to be fighting back with gusto. This was probably a good thing since he was now in Yale, so it wasn't like he wasn't grateful. But it was unnerving to be so focused on where he was going with his life.

Somewhere, OldTristan was cursing him imaginatively.

He pushed up the sleeve of his sweater to look at his watch. 10:30. Shit. He still had one hundred pages to read for his history class and he had to write the conclusion of his English paper. He put the plastic cup down on a table beside him and started to make his way through the party-goers, figuring out a timetable in his head.

OldTristan wept.

He was almost to the door when he heard a familiar and unmistakable voice. He turned and his jaw dropped at the sight of Paris Gellar, haphazardly trying to climb onto a tabletop. A crowd had formed while two other girls, already topless, ground against each other to the sexy beat, catcalls and whistles cheering them on. Tristan shook his head and tried not to focus on the buxom babes. _Pansy, _the voice returned bitterly. Ignoring it, Tristan grabbed Paris's waist and pulled her back.

"Gellar, what are you doing?" he yelled over the noise.

She tried to struggle free. "Dancing."

"Oh wow," he exclaimed as he caught a whiff of her breath. "How many beers have you had?"

"I don't remember. I lost count after the third one," she replied and held up four fingers. "Not that s'its any of your damn business."

"Let's go," he ordered, tightening his grip on her upper arm when she opened her mouth to protest. "_Now_ Paris." She argued with him as he manhandled her to the door, surprised at the few choice words she called him, much to the amusement of the few people that took notice. Once they were outside, he loosened his grip on her but kept an arm around her waist. "What the hell has gotten into you?"

"I thought I told you to stay away from me," she slurred as they stumbled down the steps together. He caught her before she landed head first into the pavement and then kept her still until they both steadied.

"Yeah, well, when have I ever listened to you?" he replied, grinning slightly.

"Never ever," she replied, bringing her arms around his neck. "You just never listened. We…we could have been great together if you had listened_. Listened_!" One arm flew in a circle as she emphasized her point. "But nooooo! That's just not how DuGrey's handle things, is it?"

"Not usually, no." He pried her other arm away from him and tired to lead her in the direction of Durfee. "C'mon Par, one foot in front of the other. It's really simple. Concentrate."

Paris looked down at her wobbly legs and lifted one in the air and giggled. "Left! Left! Left, right, left! Is that what you learned in military school, Tristan?"

"No," he answered chuckling. "Walking kinda came naturally to me."

"Huh, me too," she replied sort of dreamily. Then she flung her arms outward, almost hitting him on the nose and whirled around, tripping over her own heels but somehow managing to stay upright. She giggled again, which was odd to hear. It had been a long time since he'd heard that particular sound coming from her lips. "I feel _great_!"

"You say that now," he responded, grabbing her right wrist. "Tomorrow is a different story. Christ, Paris, why were you even at the party? It's not exactly your scene."

"Shush," she replied haughtily as he started to walk again, pulling her with him. "You don't know me anymore. I am _so_ the party girl."

"I would never have guessed." He held her hand still, mostly because he was afraid she'd turn around and go straight back to the frat party. "So, do you want to tell me what happened?"

"I'm free!" she replied, with a long sigh and then started to sing, "_Free as the wind blows!_ _Free as the grass grows!_"

"Free from what?"

"From my parents," she replied, almost sadly. "From Hartford and from OldParis. Do you know OldParis? She's a drag, a loser with her book in a nose and dreams of fucking Harvard. I hate her."

Despite the slur of her words, Tristan understood perfectly. He looked down at her now, and said sincerely, "I don't."

She smiled big and wide and touched his cheek as she plastered herself against him. "But you're not Jamie. Jamie liked her too. He doesn't really like me."

"I'm sure that's not true," he said kindly, although he was hesitant to talk about Paris's boyfriend. That, in his infinite experience with females, was always murky ground. Worse when they were wasted.

She let out an unladylike snort. "That's why he broke up with me."

"I'm sorry," he said awkwardly, hoping that not saying anything else would keep him out of trouble.

Paris's expression became morose as she said, rather philosophically, "I guess it was inevitable. He was kinda square," she stopped to giggle a little and then added, conspiratorially, "And a little boring in the sack, if you know what I mean."

As she cackled gleefully, Tristan smirked. "I can imagine."

Encouraged, she continued, in a much louder voice. "He wouldn't go down on-"

Tristan clamped a hand over her mouth and shook his head, suppressing his laughter. "Paris, as much as it would tickle me to hear about your sexual misadventures, I don't think our already rocky relationship would survive this conversation tomorrow morning."

"Always the gentleman," Paris beamed at him as he held open the door to Durfee.

"Hardly," he objected with a wolfish grin, OldTristan wasn't dead yet. "We'll continue this when you're in possession of all your mental faculties." Paris stared at the door of her dorm room and then back at him, blinking. "Gellar, do you have your keys?"

"No, I was going to get some coffee when that girl dragged me off to the party."

"You don't know her name?"

"Can't remember it now. She was named after a season. Autumn?" She shrugged and then lifted her hand, and pounded on the wooden door.

- & -

_Oh yes_, Rory thought bitterly as she rose from the sofa in her dorm room as some lunatic pounded on the door. _The night can get worse_. After her disastrous date with Trevor, she came back to her room in hopes of studying but she felt too pathetic. She was having her own pity party entitled "I Suck" when she was interrupted. Trudging to the door, she was surprised to see Paris and Tristan standing there, both looking a little disheveled.

"Gilmore!" her roommate exclaimed, looping an arm around Rory's shoulders and giving her a noisy kiss on the cheek while she stared at Tristan, bewildered. "So lovely to see you. How was the date?"

Ignoring her, the brunette turned to Tristan. "You got her drunk?"

He pocketed his hands. "No, she pretty much did that on her own."

"Why is it that whenever you're around something bad always happens?" Rory asked hypothetically, before turning around to steady Paris, who was about to fall. "Jesus, how much did you let her drink?"

"What part of she got drunk on her own don't you understand, Gilmore?" Tristan shot back, temper flaring in his eyes as he stepped into the dorm. "Do you need me to spell it out for you?"

"Children," Paris said patiently as she whirled around. "Don't fight. I'm okay. Really. Never better."

Rory rolled her eyes and caught Paris's arm. "Come on, we'll put you in bed. Tristan," she said icily over her shoulder, "you know your way out."

She winced as the door slammed shut behind him but smothered the nagging voice in her head. Paris gave her a stern look. "Idiot."

"Excuse me but I'm not the one who's drunk and disorderly."

"He was being perfectly nice," Paris responded as Rory maneuvered them into the room. "You were being a bitch."

Rory's formed a little 'O'. "What?"

"Oh don't deny it," she replied, disgusted. "I hate it when you do that."

"When I do what?" Rory asked, completely taken aback. Paris lowered herself onto her bed. "What are you talking about?"

"You pretend you're this really nice girl who doesn't do anything wrong," she answered, flailing her arms around, dramatically, her face flushed red. "This unassuming, righteous…_golden_ girl who has every fucking thing that she wants!"

Hurt and at a loss for what to say, Rory stared at her friend and mumbled stupidly, "I don't get what I want. Listen, does this have to do with Jamie because he called here like…"

"Oh God," she muttered, holding her head with her hands. Rory wasn't sure if she had a headache or was just exasperated. DrunkParis had more mood swings than NeuroticParis and that was saying a lot. "Buy a clue, Gilmore. You got into Harvard but didn't go only because you were too chicken shit to cut the umbilical cord."

"You're drunk," Rory replied stiffly as she crossed the room to her bed.

"You're avoiding."

"What the hell is your problem, Paris?" she shot back finally.

"Right now," Paris answered, eyes narrowed as she stood up, teetering a little, "you."

"Ever since we've been at Yale, you've been set on being this stupid, laid-back…_freshman_. You're partying and that stupid crafts corner and your life coach...God!" Rory yelled, knowing the rest of their suitemates could hear them. She was too hurt to care.

"Yeah well, not everyone likes the real me so sue me if I actually want to have friends," Paris shot back, pulling at the sleeves of her sweater. "Not everyone can bat their eye-lashes and have all the boys in town begging, _Princess_."

"Right," Rory said sarcastically, "But getting drunk at a party with Tristan DuGrey is a sure-fire way to make sure he gets into your pants."

"Maybe if he wasn't so hung up on you," Paris stopped to tug her sweater over her head and then curled her lip into a sneer, "You know you should actually take him up on that. Maybe popping your the cherry will help dislodge the fucking stick shoved up your ass."

Glowering, she picked up her textbook and walked to the door, signaling that she was done with the conversation. "You know Paris, maybe the fact that no one likes you is because you're mean, spiteful and really crappy to the few friends you have."

With a bang, Rory shut the door behind her and closed her eyes, willing back tears.


	6. Chapter Five: Forgiveness

**Disclaimer: **I don't own a damn thing. Yes, I'm bitter. It all belongs to Amy Sherman Palladino and the WB. A part of the last scene is borrowed from the episode _An Affair To Remember_. ****

**Rating: **PG-13 for now. May go higher. Probably will, actually.

**Spoilers**: Everything up until episode three of season 4, _The Hobbit, The Sofa and Digger Stiles._

**Dedication: **To Surya for sharing snippets with me and as always to my Susie for sending me my first postcard ever!

Chapter Five: Forgiveness 

Even though she couldn't see his face, she knew what his expression was: a charming smile that slowly melted into a half-pucker so that the recipient would unconsciously lean forward; smoldering blue eyes that stared straight into your own so that heat would rise in your body and your face would flush prettily.

Amused, Rory leaned against the doorway, nursing the cup of coffee in her hand and waited for the lusty brunette who Tristan DuGrey was shamelessly flirting with to giggle coyly and accept any offer that he made her. Astonishingly, the brunette seemed a little distracted as she put her notebook back into her shoulder bag and glanced up at him, managing a bright smile, she flashed her dimples and then excused herself with, "See you next class!"

Rory choked on her laughter as Tristan straightened, gathered himself, shook his head and turned to answer the professor calling him to the front. The brunette walked to the door and Rory recognized the heart shaped face and deep blue eyes from her Intro to Journalism class. "Sophia, right?" she asked as the other girl approached.

Sophia furrowed her impossibly arched brows. "Yeah. You're in my journalism class, aren't you? I'm sorry. I don't think I know your name."

"Rory Gilmore."

"Right, the girl with her hand up all the time," Sophia teased as she adjusted the strap of her shoulder bag. There was a certain grace to her movements even as she gave off an incredibly down-to-Earth vibe. The mix was interesting, it made Rory feel somewhat uncomfortable. "You wanna tone it down? You're making the rest of us look bad."

On any other day, Rory would have been a little taken aback by such cheeriness and energy but today, Sophia's exuberance was a nice change from the drabness in her own dorm room. She had successfully managed to avoid Paris the entire morning and the thought of going back to the stifling tension was scary. Returning Sophia's bright smile, Rory said, "Well, I'm very passionate about journalism. I can't help myself."

"Oh, I know what you mean," Sophia said seriously and Rory was thrilled at the prospect of having something in common with the other girl. "I feel the same way about Jude Law." Her mouth opened a little, not sure what to say when Sophia laughed. "Nice impression, Nemo. Do you do anything else?"

Rory closed her mouth and wondered why she was so low on wit today. Obviously, just drinking her coffee wasn't working anymore. "You were joking."

"No, I was dead serious. Jude Law is delicious." She glanced into the classroom and then back to Rory. "I think that guy was asking me out."

Rory smirked as the brunette chewed her lower lip. "You think?"

"Well, I have delayed reactions to that sort of thing."

"Interesting. But yeah, he was asking you out," Rory answered as she took a sip of her coffee and watched as Tristan discussed, what looked to her like his paper, with the professor. "And I find it highly entertaining that you didn't know that and completely brushed him off."

"Wait, you know him?"

"We went to high school together for awhile."

"He's hot." Rory gave her a weird look and the brunette shrugged. "Delayed reaction. The synapses just fired. Anyway should I apologize or something? What's he like?"

Rory tucked her tongue into the corner of her mouth. How to answer a question like that? Cautiously, she answered, "Don't apologize. If I know him like I think I do, he'll ask you again. And he'll make sure you know it."

"Persistence," Sophia said her voice full of approval as she cast Tristan a lingering glance. Although, to Rory, this girl seemed different than the girls Tristan DuGrey used to chase after, she still appeared as if she wasn't completely immune to him. "I like that. Okay, so I gotta run. I'll see you in class. Um, we'll sit together maybe? Save me a seat, 'kay?"

Before Rory could answer, the girl was gone in a flurry. She shook her head and wondered if that weird encounter really happened. Just as she turned, Tristan approached her and made her forget what she was doing outside his classroom in the first place.

Tristan was wearing, thin, silver-framed glasses.

"Uh…hi," she stuttered a bit as one hand unconsciously flew to the doorknob behind her as he looked at her curiously. _Oh my,_ she thought wearily. The jolt at seeing him…so _serious_ thundered through her system. "You're wearing glasses."

He looked at her oddly, a smirk already forming as she started walking with him. Yes, it was time to inject the coffee directly into her bloodstream. "Yeah, they help. I couldn't afford to fuss with contacts at Pennington."

She figured that was the name of his exile and she imagined it to be just like it sounded: stiff, superior and unbending. Without thinking, she glanced up at him and blurted, "They suit you. In an odd sort of way."

Now the grin was full-fledged. "Thank you."

She cleared her head of thoughts regarding the way he looked and focused her attention on the reason she sought him out. "I want to apologize for the way I acted last night."

"It's okay," he replied, shaking his head as they stepped into the courtyard.

"No, it's not," she replied stubbornly. "I was rude and I jumped to conclusions. I was having a bad night and it was easy to blame you and I'm sorry."

If he was surprised by her honesty, he didn't show it and merely smiled. "Give me your coffee."

"What?" she asked not fully comprehending even as he took the cup out of her hand.

"I missed breakfast," he replied easily as he lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. He gave her the choirboy look he'd perfected over the years. "And giving me your coffee would really smooth things over between us. That is what you want, right?"

Knowing she should be annoyed, she felt a reluctant grin tug at her lips. She was just relieved that he wasn't holding last night against her and that at least she had smoothed things out with one person. "I'll let it slip this time, DuGrey. But you should know: no one takes a Gilmore's coffee and lives to tell about it."

He simply arched a brow and took another sip of _her_ coffee. She smacked him on the arm and comfortable again, walked with him to her next class.

- & -

It seemed like it was a day for atonement. After all, it wasn't everyday when two pretty girls came to him to apologize for their behavior the night before. That was usually his role. He smiled a little at the memory of the apology he'd made to the pretty Carson twins the day of their fourteenth birthday party – he still denied knowing how the alcohol got into the punch.

"Are you listening to me, Tristan?" Paris snapped impatiently. "What the hell are you grinning about?"

"A fond memory," he answered automatically as he sat down next to her on the bench outside their dorm. "And yes, I was listening. And like I said, you don't have to apologize. I've made a fool of myself countless times and you were always there. Rolling your eyes and yelling at me, but you were there."

A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "Last night is not all I'm sorry for."

He took her hand in his and squeezed. "The rest isn't your fault."

"I blew it out of proportion," she countered, looking up at him with an expression that could only be described as vulnerable. It still disconcerted him to see her like that, it was so rare. "I don't deal with change very well."

"Paris," he said slowly, leaning back against the bench. "I've known you forever. You don't deal with anything very well."

Her eyes narrowed. "If you're trying to make me feel better, you're doing a piss-poor job of it."

He laughed and twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. "I'm just saying you don't need to explain anything. Not to me."

She let out a sigh, gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Tristan. It's funny..."

He looked at her curiously. "What is?"

"You don't always know how much you missed someone until they step back into your life again."

"I missed you too, Gellar." He chuckled, pulling her closer and gave her a friendly peck. Paris closed her eyes and smiled at the familiar warmth. Dealing with Tristan, before puberty and her hopeless crush had hit, was always easy for her even though it had been a feat for everyone else. Probably because she never took his crap. It was nice to remember how easy. "Rory's worried about you."

She pulled away, the prickly heat of anger returning. "Is she now?"

Tristan gave her a quelling look. "Of course, she is. I was surprised to see how close the two of you have become."

The guilt washed over the anger. She cringed as she remembered her words to Rory the night before; she had been ruthless, taken out her frustrations on the brunette. Why? Simply because Rory had cared for her. "Yeah, well, it's an interesting relationship."

"Strong enough to stand a few careless, harsh words said in a drunken stupor?" The fact that Rory had apparently told him the details of their fight interested her. He knew about her heartless outburst and that shamed her. Unable to say anything, she simply shrugged. "She's already forgiven you, Paris. She's just waiting for you to come to her."

Tears were fighting to fall but she held them back. Her voice was thick when she answered. "I know."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

"When did you become so insightful?"

He smiled mysteriously. "It's a gift."

- & -

"A trampoline. That's new." Rory stated as she entered her dorm room, disconcerted. She had tons of reading to do and it seemed like her roommates were going to pick today of all days to make her so homesick.

"Helps with my shin splints," Janet answered as she bounced.

"Huh. Wow. Squeaky."

"Yup."

The phone rang from her room and Rory took it as a sign that Paris wasn't in the room. Maybe she'd get a few hours of peace before dealing with her. Sighing, she went inside only to find out that she was wrong. "Oh."

"I'm not answering it," Paris informed her, staring at the phone with contempt. "It's Jamie. He wants to apologize for the way he ended things."

"How do you know it's him?" she asked, putting her book bag on her desk.

"Caller-ID. A wonderful thing," she deadpanned.

Still in a bad mood, Rory decided and started making plans to study somewhere else. She certainly wouldn't subject herself to more stress. "I'm going to the library."

"Rory," Paris said over the ringing phone just before it stopped. "We need to talk."

She turned to her and sighed. "I really need to study."

Paris's eyes narrowed and she took a deep breath to calm herself. "This will only take a minute. I'm sorry for last night. I was out of line and I said things that I didn't mean."

"Apology accepted."

"That didn't sound very forgiving," Paris shot back. The phone rang again and she picked it up and screamed into it. "I'm busy, Jamie. I'll call you back later."

"I'm going to go now," Rory answered, a little freaked out. "The last time you were angry with Jamie, it didn't go too well with me."

Paris opened her mouth and then closed it, shaking her head. "Obviously Tristan doesn't know you as well as he likes to think he does."

"What does Tristan have to do with this?" Rory asked surprised as Paris met her gaze. "You talked to him about our fight?"

"Didn't you?" Paris returned coolly. An entire minute passed and the two girls stared at each other, faces flushed and hands on hips.

And then they both simultaneously broke into a fit of giggles.

Clutching her sides Rory, sat down on the chair, her giggles subsiding. "When exactly did Tristan DuGrey become our go-to-guy?"

Paris shook her head. "I don't know but we better not get too attached - for the sake of our sanity." They smiled at each other for another minute before she continued, "I really am sorry. I was drunk and stupid."

She shrugged. "Maybe you were right."

"I hope not because your mother would have an apoplectic seizure if you lose that prized virginity to Tristan."

Rory chuckled and shook her head. "Well maybe not about that. But abo -"

"None of it," she cut her off. "You're here because it was the best choice for you."

Although Rory wasn't thoroughly convinced she nodded and took a step forward to give her friend a hug. "Thank you. And right back at you."

Paris returned the hug. "So we're good?"

"Yeah, we're fine." Rory pulled away. "Are you going to call Jamie back?"

"I don't know yet," she replied and then sighed, flopping onto her bed. "Relationships with men suck."

Rory thought of Dean and Jess and nodded. "Agreed."

"I think I'll date women now," Paris stated almost as an afterthought.

Rory shook her head. "Relationships with women are just as tough."

"How would you know?"

"_The L Word_."

"Right." Paris grinned and sat up. "I can be mature about this."

Rory cleared her desk and pulled her books out of her book bag as she said over her shoulder, "Could you do it somewhere else? I need to study."

Paris rolled her eyes and plucked Rory's cell phone out of her bag. "I hope your phone plan doesn't suck as much as you do."


End file.
